


The Secret Ultimate Technique Version 2.0 (In Which Sena CANNOT Handle This Why Are They Doing This To Him)

by want_exploding_pen



Series: The Secret Ultimate Technique [2]
Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/want_exploding_pen/pseuds/want_exploding_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kobayakawa Sena proves himself capable of some very bizarre, dirty techniques. Somewhat. No, really. Well, maybe not really.<br/><br/><br/>It’s all Hiruma-san’s fault anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Ultimate Technique Version 2.0 (In Which Sena CANNOT Handle This Why Are They Doing This To Him)

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked for the American version (dude, like a _millennia/ _ago). Story still got kudos (ao3) and faves (ff.net) as if you guys actually like my sense of humour.__
> 
> I was… I was _moved,okay?_  
>   
>   
>  Post the body clean up.  
> I mean, post Russians.

 

 

 

 

_28-23._

So they have reached this point again: the life-and-dead, very bitch-someone-is-going-to- _die_  point.

This is turning out to be a very recurring theme in his life.

The American dream team is… leading.

 _This,_ Sena thinks. _This is very familiar._

Since Team Japan are miraculously able to catch up fourteen points within the last ten minutes of first half – all manners of super, absurd, super absurd, pipiru piru piru, hadoken, flame-of-hell-inducing, with the power of the moon, kamehame ha techniques – Kobayakawa Sena, title: runner of the era, Eyeshield 21, Japan’s number one running back, the red devil high-speed point-getter—

(It’s not that he doesn’t _know_ what happen every time they bench him and tell him to close his eyes and count to one hundred _very veeeery_ slowly because Sena isn’t five or deaf or mentally impaired or anything, but mostly he goes along with it and pretends not to know because it helps him eat and sleep easier with a clear conscience and not being haunted by the ghosts of fallen amefuto rivals that met their untimely end at the hands of his violent-prone, trigger-happy teammates.)

So yes, Sena is pretty sure he’s seen something like this before.

…

Seriously, he’s _seen_ this pattern. Hmm.

America’s coach, Afro-man-san, makes a hug-the-world gesture. He seems nice. “The other team’s hittin’ on ya bitches!”

…

“So what? I have more than enough of them to spare,” Don drawls disinterestedly, coolly inspecting his nails, much to Afro-man-san’s imminent shock. Sena feels an acute sense of camaraderie.

His team stares at him.

“I could care less about such frivolity,” Clifford says.

“It is hardly _inspirational,”_ Tatanka says, mildly disapprovingly.

“Now, now. You can’t blame someone for trying,” Bud Walker smiles. The glint of his teeth is as offending as Yamato-san’s in the morning, Sena thinks in the passing.

Clifford glares at him like he can vanquish the evil from the face of earth with the power of sheer will. If he succeeds, Sena is asking him _how._

“Whatchaon about? Whatchaon about?” Panther looks wide-eyed from his one teammate to another, practically dying to be included.

Everyone ignores him and he sulks because everyone is a meanie.

Language barrier once again ignored, because since when does Agon knows a word of English that’s not a swear word or decapitating comments about one’s mother, Agon suddenly bursts out in giggles-of-pure-Agon-evilness.

Sena twitches again. _Something about this just feels so… so familiar—_

It’s a familiar, skin-to-bone-deep feeling. Honed instinct, really. He usually only has such epiphany when associated with playground bullies or Hiruma being too happy or Agon being too happy or _any_ of his teammate being too happy.

Or Cerberos. Yes, definitely Cerberos.

A very hungry Cerberos. With those _teeth._

_… Hiiee._

“Fucking trash,” Agon says, grinning ferally. Why can’t he smile like a normal, inoffensive human being? “I bet their bitches ain’t good enough. Unlike mine.”

“Guys with girls should die!”

The girlfriend-less-not-teammates give Agon the evil eyes from hell again. This time Agon makes a few vaguely murderous (or at least maiming) hand signs that Sena is pretty sure are supposed to be very, very inappropriate for a national sport broadcast.

“Now, now,” Yamato placates, his glow-in-the-dark teeth shining from this end of the court to the next.

Someone says from behind Yamato, almost pleadingly, “Can I punch him now?”

Sena, on the other hand, feels like he needs to say something.

(Incidentally, it is not to approve nor disapprove the above question.)

Because sure, Sena and Panther-kun are about head-to-head – figuratively anyway, literally Sena is head-to-shoulder – in terms of speed, but Sena can’t do anything if he doesn’t _get the ball_ and if he wants to settle this with Panther-kun, he kinda needs his teammates to keep the others at bay.

Sena just isn’t sure how they’re going to interpret “keep the others at bay” part.

In any case, this calls for an emergency plan.

Which is sort of supposed to be read as _dirty scheme ahoy,_ because you can’t play under Hiruma-san and not learn a thing or two about being a  ~~sadistic~~ harmlessly manipulative quarterback and heartlessly using your own teammates’ youthful feelings and purity and passion (no, really, seriously) for ~~your own continued existence~~ victory.

Because they need nothing short of a _miracle_ to overcome the All Star team, something that will give them a chance against the _gods_ of amefuto _,_ something like—

Like.

Like the _secret ultimate American football technique of all time._

Cue a mini meltdown.

Why hasn’t Hiruma-san pull out the big, embarrassing guns yet anyway? Why? It’s not like he suddenly grew a conscience and sense of honour in the middle of the world tournament.

Sena would know if he did.

(These days, Sena knows a lot of thing he is never quite sure he is meant to know.

Parts of _growing up_ and all that, he supposed.)

Sena stares dolefully, mournfully, doe-eyed, at the American team’s direction. His eyes find Panther-kun’s sulking form; he’s such a _good_ friend, too.

Sena blinks when Bud Walker catches his eyes.

The older man smiles at him before he—oh no. Ohgodnooo-no-he-did- _not_ —

Sena combusts a Devilbats’ full-stop red when the older man _bloody winks at him_ and proceeds to make vaguely suggestive hand gesture accompanied with an eyebrow wiggle that’s entirely lost on Sena, but still manages to make Sena feel a little ~~sexually~~ harassed at the same time.

Sena gasps again, mind made up.

Where Hiruma-san uses the Gatling guns, Sena deploys a vaguely endearing squeak, like what’s produced between stubbing your toe and getting your nose between automatic doors.

“Umm,”

It is surprisingly effective.

(There is a pause, for dramatic effect. A fearful inhale, also for dramatic effect.

Or vital function necessary because Sena’s body obviously thinks it’s in some sort of horror movie.

Which is not wrong or anything.)

Does he really have the heart to do this to Panther-kun and the others?

_Does he?_

Is he such a cruel, heartless boy to place his ambition – survival – above others? What happens to moral and sportsmanship and campaigns for gun control?

And the biggest question is: _can he do this?_

Sena closes his eyes and imagines what Hiruma-san will do in his place— _hokaaaay, bad choice._ But still, he honestly wants his team to—

(—to avoid eternal—he means, _internal_ bloodshed when the match is over.)

—win, because Sena _really, really likes_ Team Japan.

(And he really, really doesn’t want anyone _to die_ or something before they can return home.

 _Sena_ certainly doesn’t want to _die_ or anything.)

In his internal, miserable morally conflicting monologue, Sena has nearly forgotten about his teammates, who are all _staring_ at him pretty intently.

It’s… It’s scary.

Why did he even think he can do this sport to begin with? Barring the fact that he’s faster than any of them and it’s comforting to remember that he can always run away.

He quickly glances to the American team again. Bud Walker is still smiling at him. That is actually scarier; Sena didn’t think it was _possible._

The world is unspeakably dangerous for Kobayakawa Sena nowadays.

Sena whimpers.

“Why is that, Sena-kun?” Yamato asks, very, very nicely, somehow sparkling while at it. Like a good, reliable older brother. Or an overly concerned boyfriend. Yeah, Sena tires really hard not to think about it either. “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me.”

Someone in the background hisses “bad personality” somewhere in between “fraud” and “evil, I tell you,” Sena ignores them. Yamato’s perfect sparkling smile does not falter.

Riku and Mizumachi discreetly (not really) try to step on Yamato’s feet. Yamato avoids them so smoothly that Sena has a passing thought that Yamato’s learned God Speed Impulse.

Which, in no way that will end well if Agon finds out.

“W-Well, umm…” Sena pauses, looks down.

And then, he blushes. Then, he clutches at his blushing cheeks because this is actually _embarrassing._

Everyone stares. In silence.

Yamato is still smiling fixedly. Hiruma’s bubble gum pops with a startling lifelessness. Sakuraba is bright red and twitchy. Chuubou is performing a sort of ritualistic fainting motions; Sena is concerned he might accidentally summon a demon and do they really need _another_ one?

Agon and Kakei are _glaring. Why?_

Musashi is nodding _approvingly. Again, why?_

Akaba slaps Koutarou across the face with his guitar to cover for an embarrassment he doesn’t know how to deal with. _Are you alright, Koutarou-san?!_

Riku actually palms his face (why?? Riku  _never_ does that unless he’s feeling very done) when _Shin_ places a hand on his nose.

Shin pulls away and stares at the red blood stain on his fingertips. He wonders how is he suffering a nosebleed when he hasn’t receive any significant physical blow.

Takami is face palming too, imploring mercy to the high heavens because he is not and will never be ready to give Shin Seijuro the bird and bees talk.

Monta… Monta is panicking. Loudly. With Taka-san calmly, disdainfully, like they are _all_ beneath him (which is probably true at this point, because even _Agon_ is wary of his hitherto unrivalled sharp tongue and intimidating hair) telling Monta to  _calm down or I will hurt you._

Someone irrelevant to life in the back (Sena thinks it’s the ref, maybe, he doesn’t look) squeaking fearfully, “umm, the clock didn’t stop… right?”

Sena shuffles nervously on his feet, practically trembling like a dying leaf.

He tries to remember what Suzuna said about the _right way of asking help from his senpai-tachi_ though he doesn’t really remember much about except for Suzuna brandishing and shoving the book into his face before shoving it into his bag.

Everything is done against his will and Sena is not very sure about it but Suzuna _insists_ that she knows what she’s doing.

The book is suspiciously titled Moe 101: How To Be ~~Moe~~ (here looks suspiciously like Suzuna-san’s writing in purple sharpie and why are there angry looking kaomojis??) Bold and Manly and Daring For Shrinking Violet Dummies – _is that book even legally published, Suzuna-san?!!_ – and Sena summons the very first things he remembers from the book: look helpless like you’d _die_ if you don’t.

Well, that won’t be so hard.

Sena gulps, before delivering the ultimate act of sacrifice: he sticks out his lower lip, managing to wet his eyes, looking terribly like a miserable wet kitten. It’s arguably genuine. Sena is so ~~embarrassed~~ remorseful he can literally _cry._

“A-Ano, well… after the game is finished, well… I kind of… umm…”

Sena sniffs, lips going wobbly.

“Fucking spill, fucking shrimp,” Hiruma-san growls.

Yamato gives Hiruma a look and frowns, “That wasn’t nice, Hiruma-san.”

“Shut it, fucking shiny.”

“That also wasn’t very nice, Hiruma-san.”

“Yeah, shiny?” Hiruma raises an eyebrow, “Gunna do something about it? _Shiiiiny?”_

Deciding that it’s now or never (before Hiruma and Yamato start something that Sena’s innocent eyes would rather not bear witness to), Sena braces himself and blurted with all his might, “Summer vacation!”

“… What?”

“Summer vacation!” Maybe perhaps Sena really, really should have given this more thoughts. _Really._ “Uh, P-Panther-kun and the others kind of _i-invited_ me t-to Don-san’s villa? Uh, a little forcefully? T-To spend summer vacation? Umm, with… with them?”

Sena tries to ignore the way his voice ends in this very otherworldly pitch.

Everyone freezes.

Except for Kurita-san, because he is saying, “That was very nice of them, Sena-kun!”

Silence.

Hiruma-san is staring _because summer (in amefuto hell) usually means “Hiruma-san and his special extensively murderous training from the ninth circle of eternal purgatory and inferno with hounds of hell and bullets chasing after you all the way” and who is Kobayakawa Sena to run away from it all?_

Well, he’s Eyeshield 21, but he’s still Hiruma-san’s – lackey? Slave? … Minion? – _underclassman,_ at the end of the day.

“I-I said no of course, Hiruma-san!” Sena says so quickly, he nearly bites his tongue, raising his hands like he’s ready to grovel if need be when he catches the sudden, _chilling_ blankness on Hiruma-san’s face. “B-But Phanter-kun s-somehow turned it into… a bet? U-Um, like, _you know,_  a bet. Like, I have to go if we, you know—” He squeaks, then whispers, _“—lost.”_

There’s a full heartbeat of silence as Team Japan considers their (obliviously most doted on but highly distressed and mostly terrified) running back.

Sena’s nape breaks in cold sweat. _Save me, Mamo-nee!_

“C-Clifford-san texted me yesterday a-about it, and t-that was really _nice_ of them, _but_ umm, I-I’d reaaaaaally rather not, b-because Bud-san—”

 _Well,_ it isn’t a lie though.

Panther-kun did generously, kindly, pleadingly _~~beggedwhinedhalf-forcedcoerced~~ _~~bullied~~ _asked_ him nicely into spending summer with him and the team at Don-san’s villa because he won’t have any friend to talk to for the whole summer boot camp otherwise.

Sena politely refused for fear of his life but Panther-kun was sort of ~~pouty~~ persistent about it.

And Clifford-san _did_ text him about joining the team after graduating high school, and he did extend the summer invitation, but under the pretext of strictly professional amefuto business because Clifford-san is nice and normal and not insane for once in Sena’s long, harrowing tale of a life of fifteen years.

But the other day, Bud-san _did_ kind of—his butt (no, it wasn’t a pun) _okaa-saaaaan—_

“… Bud-san…”

He whimpers, on the verge of tears. Mostly, it’s real and it’s from the embarrassment (in the he-will-never-be-a-bride way—no, wait, he means groom) but the team kind of takes it the wrong way anyway, which Sena is counting on, because they are crazy and selfish and… and—

Sena flails, nearly hitting someone in the face. There may be the universal grabby hands motion involved.

Somehow, something he does manage, without bursting from sheer emotional distress, to communicate “Bud-san was handsy the other day and might or might not have make complimentary statements about his posterior structure which is _flattering_ and all but” to his _insane,_  selectively perceptive teammates.

_Crackle._

And there goes the thunderstorm of doom. No rain clouds as far as the eyes can see. Weather forecast promised clear blue sky today.

Monta gasps, clutching at his cheeks, “Meep!”

Kid coughs awkwardly.

Kurita looks on neutrally confused.

Yamabushi and Banba start chanting what sounds like a funeral rite for unfortunate souls with a laughing Ootawara waving his pants in the air and boom-farting away in the background.

Takami looks like he wants to break down and cry right there in front of everyone so Kid pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.

Marco… Marco is smirking. That is worrying.

Mizumachi and Suzuna are _giggling._ That is extremely worrying.

Hiruma nearly drops his Japanese Imperial Army light anti-aircraft gun before a _shaaaaarp-I-am-going-to-prick-my-finger-over-with-it-and-diiiieeee_ grin suddenly takes up half his face.

It was a perfect psychological blow. There’s nothing for him to criticize.

_Fucking shrimp._

Hiruma-san looks like he couldn’t have been prouder, but Sena feels like he’s one step further in the forest-of-no-return.

“How defective,”

Suddenly, _Shin_ understands implications. It’s a little _amazing._

Sakuraba’s poster worthy face hardens. “How dare they do that to our Sena-kun?”

“Now, now. Let’s settle this peacefully,” Yamato smiles, flexing his fingers. He doesn’t look peaceful. Like, _at all._

“The assholes, I’ll crush them!” Riku grits his teeth.

“Fuu,” Akaba strums his guitar so hard that a guitar string snapped, red eyes glinting behind his shades. “They are disrupting my perfect rhythm.”

“I’ll fucking _kill_ them punks,” Agon looks a little more manic than usual, emitting more kill-kill-kill intent that’s honestly very scary. “Crush them to fucking pieces! I’ll make sure fucking mommies won’t even recognize the remains!”

Sena stiffens; it doesn’t have to be that extreme! What about his conscience to eat and sleep normal—no, wait, he means _those poor mommies!_

Kakei huffs, blue eyes narrowing dangerously. “On my honour, I will not allow them to lay a finger on Eyeshield any further.”

“That’s not smart!” Koutarou flips his comb.

Musashi cracks his hands and pops his neck solemnly.

Chuubou seizes Sena’s hand with an unrivalled passion, avoiding three simultaneous, violent kicks of extreme prejudice behind him.

“I don’t really understand what they’re trying to do or what they did that senpai just told me, but I’ll crush anyone who tries to hurt senpai!”

Chuubou looks at him, painfully notice-me-senpai and begging for approval or a pat on the head.

Sena smiles at him and cautiously pets him on the head like petting a bomb, which is sadly a sort of normal occurrence for him being who he is to Hiruma-san, but _Sena just really wants to crawl under a rock and die now._

Chuubou on the other hand looks like he can die happy, which makes one of them. He will die anyway once he steps three feet away from Sena at the hand of bitter teammates.

Kurita is still smiling confusedly and is for some reason clapping.

Hiruma-san “kuhihihi khekhekhe” creepily, bending skyward, looking positively evil and looming, sprouting horns and tail. Sena doesn’t doubt that he’s feeding on the dark energy in the field.

(Hiruma fucking _loves_ the fucking shrimp.)

“Yare, yare…” Kid sighs, adjusting his hat.

Tetsuma blows an agreeing nose steam from his side. What he’s agreeing to though, Kid isn’t so sure.

Kid wonders how it always turn out this way. Well, not really.

Usually, it’s Hiruma who pulls the tricky “hidden trump card within hidden trump card within hidden trump card” play.

What surprises him is the fact that their gentle-natured, sweet-tempered, always helpful, always rational, normally very normal running back has actually done _that._

Well, Kid supposes it’s a good way to unite and encourage team spirit.

And Kid does want to win pretty badly himself, if only so that he doesn’t have to deal with the aftermath of bad-tempered teammates.

(Although it’s a _little_ cruel to play on the team’s… _protectiveness_ like that and Kid honestly didn’t expect Sena to have a single vicious bone up his tiny sleeves. He is usually the most benevolent-to-enemy member on the team.

Maybe he is kind of a _little_ more dangerous than Kid thought.

Then again, he _was_ handpicked and trained by Hiruma Youichi.

There _has_ to be some reason why _he’s_ Devilbats’ backup quarterback.)

When Hiruma finally removes the safety of his Japanese Imperial Army light anti-aircraft gun and points it to the American team’s direction, they look like a group of amateurish terrorist group. Amateurish _teenage boys’_ terrorist group. Handle with care.

Kid thinks that Coach Morgan might as well consider an early retirement.

Hiruma grins, all teeth and evil glee. “… Kill.”

“Ya-Ha!”

(“Leave them to me!” A bright-eyed Gaou appears from behind them.

Marco _almost_ panics. Before he remembers that they have Hiruma Youichi on their side to settle the damage bills now.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Omake**

Kobayakawa Sena feels guilty. He feels sooo guilty.

 _No man_ on earth deserves this.

_Kami-sama, Hotoke-sama, Oinari-sama, Santa Claus-sama, please forgive me for I am a terrible, terrible human being._

Even though the Pentagon is probably the world’s strongest amefuto team, unleashing his own team against them feels like setting Cerberos in a room full of pink piglets and arming him with a fork and a bottle of teriyaki sauce.

Monta and Taka are apparently oblivious to his internal turmoil as they settle for a very elegant high tea just beside him. No doubt the very nice furniture comes from whichever unfortunate sponsor Hiruma managed to blackmail into sponsoring them, like everything else this team is using.

Sena quickly shuts his eyes when Agon and Hiruma cackles at the same time and someone _squeals_ eight octaves too high that Sena doesn’t think is physically possible.

Someone cries, _“Moooommmmy!”_

Someone starts singing, _“God Saves the Queen!”_ (Sena wonders why the queen when _they_ are on the verge of _dying?)_

_“Flag! Ref, flag!” Chokes._

The announcer is spitting into the microphone when Mr. Don-san is blue-skyed by Chuubou and Gaou’s combination Delta.

Clifford is appropriately petrified by the power of Yamato and Akaba’s lethally blinding sparkliness.

Evidently, he has allergies to a certain type of man.

Panther-kun is already very disappointed when Sena is suddenly benched along their ace receivers, but he dutifully attempts to make himself invisible after Oujou Knights angles at him like a bird of prey (Panther-kun is a feline predator, but he knows when to fold and make a run for it) so he sits quietly on the bench and twiddles his thumbs like Sena’s team isn’t slaughtering his.

At some point, their eyes meet. Panther-kun waves, reasonably cheerfully, at him and Sena is helpless to do anything but wave back.

Tatanka was veritably indisposed as of some time ago by some unspecified reasons. That might be for the best. Living and broken could be a little better than not at all.

Bud Walker is triple planked by a mortally hazardous combination of Agon, Hiruma, and Kakei’s Bermuda triangle. Kakei aims to incapacitate, the other to not so much. Maybe more castrate than anything else.

Either way, he’s not going walk out of it alive.

Sena feels strangely distant from it all.

He jumps in surprise when something booms and the whole stadium shakes. Apparently, Hiruma manages to sneak in an RPG. Behind the line of scrimmage.

Again.

Sena isn’t even surprised anymore that the ref doesn’t call the penalty after someone (three guesses who) face-masked the last ref during one of the recent matches.

In fact, Sena isn’t surprised by _anything_ anymore.

It is disheartening, but Team Japan has gained a very notorious reputation in the international amefuto youth league anywhere.

Kobayakawa Sena nowadays walks around with a neon sign slapped on his forehead and back.

_Trespassers will be bombed. Survivors will be bombed again._

Practically every other players give him a wide, non-disruptive berth now. Sena is sad and lonely these days.

_Vrroooooom._

And there goes the chainsaw.

Sena despairs and makes an awkward, potentially wrong warding sign against evil.

Taka sighs wistfully over his cup of Darjeeling, “I wonder if we get to play again for the last quarter.”

“I doubt it MAX!”

Sena silently agrees MAX.

When someone shrieks over a loud, wet _splat,_ Sena plugs his ears.

_Ah, peaceful silence._

And so, the story goes about how team Japan still somehow manages to protect Kobayakawa Sena’s innocence.

What exactly is their definition of innocence is unknown. Theory of relativity and all that.

Said Kobayakawa Sena is… is not very happy with that actually, he’s not a girl dammit, but he’s so far pretty content with the earplugs.

Maybe it’s for the better that he doesn’t hear Taki Suzuna producing a blindfold from thin air and hooting over his head, masterfully fastening a knot behind his skull and whips out a not necessarily an ally-like technique.

_“Ya-hoooo! Guys, look, look! I got Sena-chan blindfolded!”_

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And Suzuna creates the Version 3.0 and rules the world with You-nii.  
> The end.


End file.
